


Dynamite With A Laser Beam

by DeacyDrowse



Series: The Purge: Queen edition [1]
Category: Queen (Band)
Genre: All crime is legal, BAMF!John, Chaos, Character Death, Death, John helps, The Purge, Violence, crackfic, dont take this seriously, i do not own the purge, roger wants to steal a car, sort of crackfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-31
Updated: 2020-02-15
Packaged: 2021-02-27 07:21:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 12,265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22483264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeacyDrowse/pseuds/DeacyDrowse
Summary: The 4th annual Purge in the UK is tonight.For 12 hours all crime- including murder- is legal.What better way to use this time than to tear around London in a stolen Aston Martin whilst your new bandmate fires a handmade taser out the window?
Relationships: John Deacon & Roger Taylor
Series: The Purge: Queen edition [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1636195
Comments: 30
Kudos: 31





	1. 1

**Author's Note:**

> I DO NOT OWN THE PURGE!!!  
> This is purely fiction and ridiculous and is not meant to be taken seriously.  
> I don’t believe Queen would commit any of the crimes mentioned either.  
> I wrote this whilst eating cake out of a mug singing Single Ladies purely out of boredom.

**Roger**

October 13th 1971

  
_‘So, on the 4th annual Purge in the UK, we ask the nation: are you hiding away or making the most of this incredible night?’_

  
_‘My wife had an affair with Twickenham in June. I’ve got the best knife going this year. Gonna get justice.’_

  
_‘Getting revenge on my boss. That bastard.’_

  
Freddie hasn’t stopped staring at the radio for hours now. The build-up to the Purge had started 4 hours ago, and he’s been listening to all of it. The build-up is 6 hours of people’s plans for who they’re going to ‘get’ and who had done them wrong this year. I think it’s stupid really. Surely, Mr. Twickenham who slept with your wife knows you’re plotting to stab him in Tesco now you’ve boasted about it on national radio.

' _It is an honour to be free for 12 hours.'_

  
My friend flinches at that. I don’t think it’s because he’s scared, just annoyed. Bored. Angry? It’s the 3rd Purge he’s spent with Brian and I and every time he’s sat by the radio, just listening to the drabble coming from it. 

  
The Purge was introduced in the UK in ’68 – when Brian and I met – and it was terrifying at first. The two of us got locked outside that night and hid in the boot of my mate’s car in his garage until it was over. We then had a good tactic of barricading ourselves in the university toilets – where Freddie spent his first Purge with us. However, last year, a flare went off in the hall outside and Freddie had a screaming fit and smashed the window, which led to us being chased through Hyde Park by a group of armed people in anoraks. We hid in a tree in Regent’s Park, Freddie shoving his face in the fur of a stray cat he picked up. Not our finest hour.

  
This year, we’ve got a good locking system on the doors of our flat. Still in one of the busiest pats of London but it’s better than axe wielding anoraks. Well, I say we got the locks fitted – Brian is the one who was up all night fitting them.He hates the Purge even more than Freddie. It’s ‘do not mention the P word’ for 11 months then throughout October he doesn’t bloody shut up about it. He’ll call it ‘fucking ridiculous.’   
I mean, I’m not a fan of the murder things but the fact that it’s legal for me to stride into the Aston Martin dealership and get a £50000 car for free? No one will be hurt by that! There’s a very pretty DB2 Mark III in the one on Mayfair. 

  
Picking up the map of the city and flop onto the sofa next to Freddie. I trace my finger across the roads to Mayfair.

  
‘Are you.... Roger, darling, you are unbelievable sometimes.’ The singer stares at me, shaking his head. ‘Millions are going to die tonight at you look for motors.’

  
‘Well at least I’m actually.... doing something.’ I gesture at the radio.

  
_‘Last year, the US had their most successful Purge. How do you think the UK will do?’_

  
_‘Well I’ve got an axe and an eye on you Derek!’_

  
_‘It is the greatest night of the year.’_

  
I roll my eyes and continue studying the map. I snicker when I see Hyde Park and glance at Freddie, remembering the look of horror on his face when a leaf wrapped around his neck. Aware of the nature of what he’s listening to, I bite my tongue so i don’t end up cackling.  
I don’t think breaking into a car is too difficult. Also, hot wiring doesn’t look that tricky either.

  
I’m snapped out of my thoughts by the front door slamming. Brian strops into the lounge, sitting opposite Freddie and I. At first, I presume it’s more anti Purge anger, then I hear a faint curse from down the hall.

  
‘Let me guess.... John?’ I ask. The guitarist just glares, 

  
‘Brian, darling, it is his first Purge away from family,’ 

  
‘Your first Purge away from family was spent running around Hyde Park!’ Bri retorts. ‘And do you slam the door in our faces at the slightest mention of the night? No.’ 

  
‘Well... I got a cat out of it.’ He points at Romeo who’s curled up next to Tiffany. ‘Why did the door slam?’

  
‘Asked if he knew what time we’re locking down, Got no reply. Opened the door out of concern had it shoved in my face.’ 

  
I hold back a snort at the image. We only met John around 8 months ago, Freddie deciding he’d adopted him within days. Bit unsure about how someone as quiet as him would cope with 3 idiots arguing 24/7 at first but actually, seeing as he stays out of it a lot, fits in rather well. I thought he was quite comfortable around us now, but since Purge month began and he’s shut down completely. I’m sure when the nights over he’ll be back to his usual self. Hopefully. I’m not looking forward to searching for a 7th bassist, if he doesn’t.

  
‘Anyway, are the locks fitted?’ I try to change the subject, mainly to stop Freddie from going into stressy mother mode.

  
‘Yes, we’re secure. Put extra security on yours and Roger’s room too. Biggest room, that’s where us 3 are hiding.’ 

  
Freddie leaps to his feet, wide eyed.

  
‘What do you mean us 3?’ He screeches, the cats darting out of the room in shock. ‘Oh sorry! Romeo, lovey, come back!’

  
‘Fred, I can’t force him out of that room.’ Bri sighs.

  
‘What if someone gets in. Gets him – gets Deaky! He’s only 20! What if he’s hurt or killed or -’?

  
‘FREDDIE!’ I snap.

  
‘John wants to stay in that room.’ The guitarist is acting as if he’s frustrated with John but I can see worry in his eyes. John has that effect on people, can annoy and scare the shit out of you but still feel he needs to be protected.

  
‘Maybe, his strategy for tonight is to be alone.’ I take Freddie’s wrist, trying to calm him. ‘John is smart. Smart enough to not hang around with us 3 on the most dangerous night of the year.’

  
‘But what if something happens to my Deaky?’ 

  
‘Freddie, Roger’s right. John has sense on his side. If someone breaks in, he’ll keep quiet and hide. You will scream and reveal our location.’

  
‘You screamed at the anoraks too, honey!’ 

  
Brian sighs at the singer. 

  
‘What if he’s killed and we aren’t there for him?’

  
‘Well they’ll kill us 3 too... won’t be guilty for long.’ Bri laughs. ‘If someone gets in. John will be the first to hear. Deacy will know to hide and stay quiet. Roger will be killed first.’

  
I shiver at that. I’m going to be probably the only person participating in the Purge without a knife. Or axe or anything that can kill. I can’t kill – will threaten to but couldn’t bring myself to actually do it. I’ll be killed though – possibly. All alone out on the streets. 

  
‘I just don’t want John to be alone.’ Fred sniffles. ‘At least if something happens, we’ll have each other.’

  
I rush out of the room to the bathroom, not even managing to kneel down before I throw up, shaking with Freddie’s words repeating in my head. They won’t have me. If someone gets in, _they won’t have me_!

A pair of hands hold my hair back, rubbing my back. I presume it’s Brian – he’s spent 70% of his nights waiting for me to stop chucking half the world’s supply of whiskey into the loo. After around 5 minutes, I stop retching and cling onto the sides of the toilet, my eyes screwed shut.

  
‘I don’t want you 3 to be alone.’ I sob. ‘But it’s so tempting. 12 hours doing what the fuck you like. My idea of heaven... without the death. Sorry, Bri... I’m participating tonight.’ 

  
I brace myself for a bollocking but instead hear a small giggle. That isn’t Brian. I spin around and meet the icy grey eyes of John.

  
‘You?’ He sniggers with that smirk. ‘You... are taking part in the Purge?’ 

  
‘Just stealing a car.’

  
‘What do you mean?’

  
‘There’s an Aston garage and i- ‘

  
‘No what do you mean stealing? It’s legal so you’re not stealing.’

  
My mouth drops open in shock, 

  
‘You... I tell you I’m going out tonight – tonight Purge night.’ I stare at the bassist. ‘And you...'

  
‘It’s not stealing.’ John stands, pulling me up with him. ‘It’s just a bargain that requires a drill and a screwdriver.’

  
‘Huh?’

  
‘That’s how to start a car without a key. Screwdriver and drill.’ He shrugs. ‘And a lock picking kit. What car?’

  
‘You know how to steal a car?’

  
‘No. I know how to start a car without a key.’ Hs face stays straight. ‘What car?’

  
‘Aston Martin DB2 Mark III.’

  
‘Yeah that’ll be fine.’ He exits the bathroom, too casually. I follow him to his room where he takes a back pack out from under his bed. He takes out one of Freddie’s folding pencil cases (or whatever) and I’m kind of not surprised to see it full of screwdrivers. What does surprise me is John casually producing a drill from the bag.

  
‘Do you.... John do you just have that under your bed?’ He nods, his face never altering. I smile slightly, mindlessly studying his face as he searches through the bag. That’s the thing about John – he does make you smile. 

  
‘So, what dealership?’ He repacks the bag and stands to face me. ‘Mayfair will be quite busy. I think there’s a better one on the other side of Kensington. That’ll be better. Safer.’ 

  
‘Okay that one.’ I pause. ‘Wait, are you trusting me with a drill?’

  
‘No. I’m going with you.’ 

  
I damn nearly have a heart attack.

  
‘What? John no! You’re only 20!’

  
‘Yeah.’ He reaches under the bed again. ‘Got this though.’ 

  
He holds up a metal water gun shaped thing. 

  
‘What’s that.’

  
‘Taser. Stuns people. I made it.’ He shoves it into the backpack,’ You’re not going out in that shirt. Too bright.’

  
‘John you’re... Freddie will kill me if i let you go out tonight.’

  
‘You’ll be killed anyway if you go out there unarmed!’ 

  
‘Freddie...’ I run my hand across my face. ‘We can’t leave him and Brian. Not tonight.’

  
‘I connected one of the mains to the doorknob. All the doorknobs.’ John flings a black button up at me. ‘If anyone touches the metal – things get very hot, very quickly.’ 

  
‘that won’t stop them. A little burn.’ I whine, concerned for John now.

  
‘720 volts. And if they have a hand on the door to shove it open at the same time it’ll sizzle their arteries like fleshy spaghetti.’ He puts the backpack on the bed. ‘meet me at the front door at five to seven. I’ll switch on the knob shocks then and we can nab Brian’s car.’

  
‘Wait, John are we actually doing this?’ I smile at the bassist, the thought of tearing around London in a DB2, my mate armed with a taser as the nation goes bat shit crazy for 12 hours. It’ll be the greatest high ever. ‘Are we really going to.... Purge?’

  
‘It was your idea.’ He pushes past me and holds the door open. ‘Out.’ He cocks his head to the hall. I nod and wander out the room, the door swinging shut behind me. In the lounge Brian and Freddie are still at the radio, the singer clutching Tiffany tightly.

  
‘Roger, darling! Are you okay, heard you being sick!’ 

  
‘Yeah fine.’

  
_‘The highest success rate last year was in Coventry. In the capital, however, Camden came out on top. Where will be victorious this year.’_

  
‘Locking down in an hour. Any idea why these locks have a ‘no doorknob touching’ warning?’

  
I shrug, holding back a smirk. 

  
_Let’s go ga ga_


	2. 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Violence and general chaos.
> 
> All of the fight and car cliche's too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am not bad ass so can't write bad ass. I'm also British so have made some niche references.

**Roger**  
6:45. 15 minutes before chaos is unleashed across the nation. I sit on my bed, shivering in anticipation, as Freddie and Brian dash around the room, making last minute preparations for the night. They’re going to nail a wooden plank (England’s finest security) across the door soon. 

Those two are scared – I can just tell. 

‘Someone could still get through. Remember the axes, darling?’ 

  
‘Is the window secure?’

  
‘What about Romeo? Where is he! FUCK are the cats safe?’

  
‘What if we’re killed.’

  
I giggle to myself, John’s door-knob-shocks system providing me with some comfort. My band mates will be fine – as long as they don’t touch the door handle.  
I glance at the clock – 6:50. I look out the doorway and see a flash of chestnut hair go around the corner.

  
_Follow the plan, Roger._

  
‘John asked me to stay in his room tonight.’ I declare, standing to leave.

  
‘Why you?’ Freddie whines, as he wanders in holding two cats. ‘I’m much nicer company than you!’

  
‘Said I was the least dramatic.’ 

  
‘Rog, is the door secure?’ Bri stares at me with a mix of concern and betrayal.

  
‘John has it sorted.’ I smile, throwing on my flower-patterned black jacket before exiting. The door swings shut behind me and the sound of nails being hammered fills the hall.

  
_No turning back now._

  
My friend is already at the door, leaning back against it with his arms folded, apparelled in black satin and velvet. He glances at his watch.

  
‘6:56. You’re late.’ 

  
I shake my head at him and reach for the door handle. He swats my hand, glaring.

  
‘As much as you being shot across the room at speed amuses me – I want to get that Mark III first.’

  
Suddenly, a voice grabs the attention of us... and the nation   
‘ _This is not a test._  
_This is your emergency broadcast system announcing the start of the Purge. Beginning at the siren, all crime, including murder, will be legal for 12 hours. Weapons of class 4 and lower have been authorized for use during the Purge. All other weapons are restricted. Services will be unavailable until tomorrow morning at 7 am_.’ 

I grin at John as the deafening wails of the alarm echo across the city. Usually that noise causes me to make a sound not too dissimilar to the siren, but tonight – it’s almost exciting. 

  
‘So, what’s the plan?’ I whisper, not wanting Pinky and Perky down the hall to hear me.

  
‘Nab Brian’s car, go to Aston – you’re driving – then get the Aston and go mad in it.’ The bassist flicks his eyes over the door.

  
‘What if we can’t get back to Brian’s car?’ 

  
‘We’ll see how the night goes but try and get back here for 6:55. Freddie will kill you if he finds out you made me come with you.’

  
‘Uh... it was your idea?’ I laugh, John shrugging. He picks up a wooden stick with a hook attached at the end. 

  
‘Hook this over the door handle, try and screw it – don’t touch the metal.’ John hands the tool to me. I nod and manage to loop it over the handle, the door opening a crack. ‘Don’t move.’ 

  
He takes the taser out of his back pocket and holds it out in front of him, shuffling the door open with his black and white platforms. My breath hitches as he disappears out the door. 

  
‘John?’ I hiss, bracing myself for god knows what.

  
‘Okay.’ I slip around the door and join my friend out in the hall of the flat block, him swinging the door shut with the crowbar. ‘Now, any idea how many nutters live here?’

‘At least one.’ I quip, raising an eyebrow at him. ‘How about you walk forward with the taser, checking each corner and I walk backward behind you – I’ll shout if i see anyone.’

  
‘What are we – spies?’ 

  
I roll my eyes and gesture for him to start walking, turning to face back down the hall, back to back with John. I feel a little stupid, and can just feel the brunette rolling his eyes.

  
Miraculously, we reach the car park with no confrontation, however the car park itself is littered with groups of people, each holding metal objects that glint in the sunlight. The bassist and I pause at the side of a wall, the brunette peering around the corner slightly.

  
‘No guns.’ He whispers. That is one thing the UK hasn’t adopted from the US – guns. You still need a license to own one over here It’s knives that are the problem and throughout October there are ‘special deals’ on them. 

  
‘How many have knives?’

  
‘Quite a few.’ He murmurs. ‘If we stick by the wall, and keep quiet we should get to Brian’s car.’ Gingerly, we sneak around the corner, keeping a close eye on the gangs. John has one hand on my bicep and the other poised over the taser, eye’s wide and focused. Strangely, there’s no fear in them but caution, and a glimmer of fire. I scan the groups as well, one in particular catching my eye.

  
‘Fuck! There’s Tim.’’ I hiss, batting John on the arm.

  
‘Tim? Humpy Bong Tim?’ I nod at him and step out of the shadows, eager to reconnect with my friend. ‘Roger?’ 

  
John follows me, sighing, his body tensing as we approach them. I stick as close to the bassist as possible, not sure who is protecting who. We reach Tim’s group and I tap his shoulder. Tim spins around, brandishing a knife, the other men with him doing the same. John recoils, trying to avoid eye contact.

  
‘Tim! It’s me?’ I pipe up, waving. ‘We’re just trying to get to Brian’s car’ I point at said vehicle and the men just snicker. They’re blocking our way to the car, Tim looking John up and down disapprovingly.

  
‘Roger... i think it’s a bit late to get to safety.’ He stares at John. ‘Or have you taken sympathy on this little thing.’

  
John keeps his gaze firmly planted to the ground, not reacting. 

  
‘This is John. Our new bassist.’

  
‘Surely he could’ve been nice enough to introduce himself.’ Ours takes a step closer to John, who looks over his shoulder at the other groups in the car park. They’re slowly disappearing into the fading light, indistinct shouts coming from all around. ‘Oi, I was talking to you.’

  
I stand infront of John, pushing him backwards lightly, staring Tim in the eyes. It’s not that I don’t trust Tim – it’s that I don’t quite trust this night. It brings out the worst in people.

  
‘Tim, we just want to get Bri’s car and leave. We’re just going to the other side of Kensington. I don’t need to bother you and you don’t need to bother me.’ I warn, trying to stay calm, my eyes darting between my old friend, his mates and that knife.

  
‘You came over to us.’ Tim smiles. ‘You know I participate every year... and you came over.’ His eyes look different. 

‘What the hell happened to you Tim?’ i whisper. ‘You’ve changed.’ 

  
‘I’ve not changed Roger! I’ve just opened my mind.’ I don’t feel like I’m looking at Tim anymore. He takes another step closer. ‘I’ve been given.... freedom. And you’re my- ‘

  
Out of nowhere, I’m shoved to the ground, landing on my back. Velvet clad legs stand over me, one on either side, as John holds the taser up at Tim, staring him dead in the eyes. I flash mine over the group and back at my friend. 1 taser against 5 knives. This can only end badly.  
He just stands there, arms out infront of him, frozen. Tim and his mates are sharing looks of confusion before they start chuckling. They’re shaking their heads at the bassist, with withering looks. John’s face doesn’t alter. Tim composes himself.

‘You...’ He points at John. ‘You think _we_ think that’s a gun?’

‘No.... I think _you_ think _I_ think _you_ think it’s a gun.’ The bassist lowers the taser. ‘Sorry.’ 

Tim sniffs in confusion, still pointing.

‘sorry?’

‘About the finger.’

John grabs Tim’s finger, bending it flat back ono his hand before driving both their fist’s into Tim’s face. As the group lunge toward John, he swings his left leg over me and knee’s Tim in the crotch sending him to the floor. I scramble to my feet and back away, figuring John has this worked out.  
My friend raises the taser again, aiming for the tallest of the group, firing as another member grabs him from behind, brandishing a knife. The brunette jolts forward, flicking his leg back, the heel of his platform hitting the man directly in the knee. The man collapses, his head thunking on the concrete before John surges toward the final two, slipping off his belt and slinging it around the arms and waist of one then smacking the other with the side of the taser. 

‘ROGER. Get any car!’ 

I nod, rushing to the nearest vehicle – a beige Vauxhall Viva. 

‘Oh _shit_.’ I groan. 

‘QUICKLY.’ I glance at John who’s holding the belt-victim to the ground, kneeling on him whilst tightening the restraint. 

I raise my eyebrows at that before kicking the wing mirror off the car, backing up and hurling it at the window. The mirror flies through the window... which was open.

‘If we die.... I’m blaming you.’ The bassist sighs, pushing past me and fiddling with the locks on the car, swinging the door open. ‘Who’s driving?’

‘I’ll drive.’ I clamber over the passenger seat and into the drivers, adjusting the seat. I think an elf owns this car; the seat is practically up against the wheel. John flops next to me, slamming the door. He hands me a screwdriver.

‘Car looks about 5 years old; keyhole should be worn down.’ I try the tool in the lock, the engine spluttering to life. 

‘That doesn’t sound healthy.’ I murmur. 

‘SHUT UP AND DRIVE’ I leap out of my skin as John smacks my arm, and I look past him to see Tim rising to his feet, clutching his finger. ‘ROGER?’

Without further hesitation, I slam my foot down, the car lurching forward and shaking to a halt. John slowly rolls his eyes, looking at me, blankly. I cough, before turning the screwdriver again and finally get the Viva moving, if a little slowly, out the car park and onto Sinclair Road. As we rattle away, Tim and two of his gang exit the car park, hobbling after us. I keep my eye on them.... a little too closely.

‘ROGER!’ 

The Viva stumbles onto the round-a-bout at the end of the street, gliding across it and directly into someone’s lawn. 

‘You are Roger _Taylor_ – not Roger Clark!’ John hisses as I reverse off the grass and get back on route. ‘We’ve lost them.’ He glances in the rear-view mirror, taking a second to tidy his hair. I roll my eyes.

We get to the end of the next road, passing two or three murders, and delve into the streets of Kensington.

‘I mean, we could’ve got a better car.’ My friend mumbles after a while. ‘Y’know, one that goes above 45. Why did you get a fucking Viva?’ 

‘It was the closest.’ I squeak, pressing down the pedal as hard as I can. ‘FUCKING SPEED UP!’

The brunette snorts and reaches into the back pack, his eyes studying the people on the streets. He takes out a tape and slots it into the player, fiddling with the knobs before the voice of Johnnie Walker comes blaring out.

‘I recorded the radio a few months ago. Y’know with that thing I made? He played quite a few driving songs that day.’

I shake my head at him as we turn onto one of the main roads, screams coming from every corner and axes and what-not being wielded. John reaches over to the player and turns the volume up to full.

A group of youths run infront of the car, carrying machetes. I swerve and drive alongside them, the Brummie accent of Walker enveloping my ears as John leans out the window, taser in hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can’t imagine Roger calling John ‘Deaky,’ personally. I’ve never seen or heard him call him it.


	3. 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry is this is a little boring. It’s just the journey to the garage and a small run in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS: Violence and biting.

**Roger**

  
The rest of the journey down high street wasn’t too eventful. John only tasered about 5 people and I only ran over 2 so there was barely any harm done. Everyone else was clearly caught up in their pre-planned murders and setting fire to the Post Office. 

  
‘Where do I go after the high street?’ I whisper, as we pass a group of youths hitting something with lead piping and candlesticks.

  
‘dual carriageway then West-’ John leans forward in his seat, squinting slightly. ‘What are they...’

  
I follow his gaze to a group of 5 youths dressed in snorkel parkas on the pavement, hands in pockets, stood staring at us. I slow the car slightly as we pass them, John and i staring back at them. They do nothing, just keep their hooded gaze locked firmly on the Viva. 

  
I turn back to face the road, speeding up again – confused.

  
‘Weren’t you and Brian chased through Regent Park by people in anoraks?’ The bassist is still looking back at the parkas. ‘They’ve gone in the alley now....’

  
‘Sure they’re just.... going about their business.’ I try to smile, gripping the wheel tighter. We’ll be safe in the Viva. It’ll protect us.

  
There’s silence again as we near the end of the street. We are in one of the busiest parts of London in a car that can’t do any more than 50 with no windows. Well, there are windows but they’re stuck in the door with no winder but, the point is, this isn’t safe. I’m also not sure how long John’s taser will last. 

  
The junction with the dual carriageway finally looms into view.

  
‘Don’t put the indicators on.’ John hisses. I nod and turn the corner, damn nearly screaming with what I’m met by.

  
Tim and two of his gang stood next to an Austin Allegro. One of them has an axe. John rests his hand on my leg.

  
‘stop the car.’ 

  
‘What? Why?’ I splutter. The brunette glares at me and I brake, the Viva juddering to a stop, a tss noise coming from somewhere. I hope that wasn’t the tyres. I don’t have time to worry about this though, as John flings his door open.

  
‘John? Are you mad?’ I scream, grabbing his arm. ‘Knives are one thing – an axe?’ 

  
‘You and Freddie were in a park holding a stray cat being chased by 5 axe-oraks. I think I’ll be okay.’ 

  
He gets out the car, grabbing the taser. As he wanders, oh so casually, to the group, they wait by their cars, smirking. _Shit they have a plan_.

  
I lean over to the passenger seat and fumble around the side, searching for the crowbar. _Please say you brought it with us._

  
‘Thank fuck for that.’ I clamber over the seat and yank the crowbar out from under it before hopping out the car. I don’t have a plan.

  
I charge over to the guy with the axe, who runs at me, weapon posed. As he raises it to slaughter me, I hold up the crow bar, shoving back against the metal. In my mind we’d have a battle of strength, and I’d hold the axe away, pushing it back to him. 

  
In reality, I get my angle wrong, the bar slipping down the edge of the axe, a screech ringing out across the road. My foot slips and I fall forward, landing millimetres from where the axe hits the ground. The force the axe hits the tarmac with, shakes it from his hands.

  
_If that had hit me._

  
He steps over my body, reaching for the weapon. I don’t hesitate.

  
Rolling up his trouser leg with one hand and gripping his ankle with the other, I sink my teeth into his shin, digging my nails in. The man staggers and collapses to the ground, shoving me away. With a battle cry of screams, I pounce on my opponent, kneeling over his torso, pinning his arms to his sides with my legs. I begin scratching and slapping him, focusing my weight onto his chest. He manages to wriggle an arm free but i grab it and bite on his wrist as hard as I can, holding my other hand over his neck.

  
I flick my eyes over to John who is delivering immaculately placed punches to Tim whilst the other gang member lays on the ground, jittering. I presume he was tasered. My friend glances at me, double taking when he sees my attack tactic. 

  
‘Why are you still screaming?’ He sighs, dropping a groaning Tim to the ground. ‘Knee him in the crotch and get back in the fucking car, Roger.’ 

  
I nod and swing my leg in between the man’s, slamming my knee forward. Removing my teeth from the arm, I stand and rush over to the Viva, climbing in, closely followed by John.

  
‘Shit.’ The bassist slams the door, eyes wide as Tim slowly stands up, glaring at us. He staggers to the Austin, reversing back down the road. 

  
‘Look!’ I snort. ‘He’s running away!’ I look over at my friend, who’s staring at the Allegro, breathing heavy.

  
‘Drive.’ He growls.

  
‘But i want to see him run-’ 

  
‘ _Roger_ , drive.’ He repeats, thwacking my thigh.

  
‘Oh come-’

  
‘DRIVE!’ 

  
There’s revving and headlights flash on, getting brighter and brighter. I realise what’s happening.

  
Screaming in A5, I slam the Viva into reverse, flying backwards before spinning back around the high street corner. 

  
‘WHAT NOW?’ I holler, the dodgy steering coming to light as I wrestle with the wheel. 

  
‘Melbury street.’ John turns in his seat, kneeling on it and peering over the headrest. ‘ _Turn the lights off_.’ 

  
I flick the toggle and bury the accelerator into the crusty carpet. I glance at the rear-view mirror – Tim is right behind us, flashing his lights. The bassist leans over to the wheel, switching our lights on and off in a pattern.

  
‘What are you doing?’

  
Tim flashes his lights again, followed by John doing similar. There are more flashes from the Austin.

  
‘ _BASTARD_ TAKE THAT BACK!’ John screeches, going back to his original position in his seat. 

  
The Viva reaches the junction with Melbury Street and I turn sharply into it, hoping to throw Tim off. I don’t, he comes barrelling up behind the car again.

  
‘Park close, turn left onto a path.’ John orders. ‘DON’T BLOODY INDICATE.’

  
I reach the corner and swing the car around, trying as hard as I can to outrun Tim. A car park comes into view, a path leading into some trees. 

  
‘Down there?’ I check, shooting the bassist a panicked look. ‘It’s narrow.’ 

  
John rolls his eyes and grabs the wheel, yanking it to get us on the path. The Viva bounces over the uneven surface, past a tennis court. 

  
‘This is going to slow us.’ I shriek, almost being flung out my seat the suspension is so bad. 

  
‘Down here.’ John grabs the wheel again, turning us off the bumpy path and into a gap in the trees. ‘ _Quickly_.’

  
‘THIS IS NOT A ROAD!’ I squeal, every dip in the earth making the Viva jump a few inches in the air.

  
‘ROGER!’ John looks back over the seat. ‘Turn right and follow Ilchester.’

  
I nod and turn onto the road, my spine ruined. 

  
‘Aaah, tarmac.’ I sigh in relief.

  
‘You weren’t kneeling on the _hardest_ seat _in the world_!’ I look over at the bassist, his eye’s icy and wide. I just look back at the road, turning the corner on the crescent. ‘Keep on this road, turn right then right again and we’ll be back on track.’

  
‘How do you know your way around here?’ I ask, checking the mirror again. 

  
‘Just do.’ He shrugs, sitting back in the seat again. ‘Remembered the map.’

  
I laugh a little and follow his instructions, gazing at him in adoration. Never have I enjoyed someone’s company more. 

  
‘Do you have a plan for every eventuality?’

  
‘No.’ He fixes his hair in the mirror. ‘Just used logic and instinct.’

  
‘Like my straddle biting tactic.’ I smile.

  
‘No. I used human instinct – you impersonated a kinky Neanderthal.’

  
We get back onto the dual carriage way, swerving out the way of the gangs and bodies littering our road to paradise – a room packed full of Astons. 

  
The carriageway led to a round-a-bout, which was on fire, surrounded by blade wielding lunatics. At the edge of the blaze is the snorkel parka gang.

  
‘It’s them again.’ I gasp. ‘Are they following us?’

  
‘Just drive.’ John whispers, as the parkas stare again.

  
I keep driving, passing a few more murders, before we enter East Acton and go onto the imaginatively named Long Drive.

  
‘There it is.’ I gasp. I turn to John, expecting to see a sly smile. But he’s frozen, shivering slightly.

  
_‘There they are.’_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This may end up being around 5 chapters.


	4. 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The stealing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS: Death, crashes, car related chaos.  
> I wrote this over the last 3 hours, non stop. May have a few mistakes.

**Roger**

  
I pull over at the side of Long Dive and stare ahead at them. Stood in the middle of the road is Tim and his mate. My kinky Neanderthal victim. Tim has his hands shoved in his pockets, the evidence of our – well his and John’s – last two run ins still clear. The other man has the axe from earlier.

  
‘ _John_?’ I hiss. ‘ _What are we_ -’

  
‘Lock the doors.’ The bassist begins fiddling with something under the dashboard, his eyes not leaving the two men watching us. ‘Roger, when I say - drive at them. Full speed.’ 

  
I stare at my friend in shock.

  
‘Really?’ He just nods, pulling out a panel from under the dash. I look back at the mean. ‘ _They’re coming toward us_.’ 

  
I shiver as Tim and his mate slowly step closer to the car, They must only be ten meters away now.

  
‘DRIVE.’ John screams, frantically messing with the dash.

  
Killing Tim is not something I exactly want to do, but I don’t want him to kill John. I trust John. Even if he is ever so slightly mad.

  
I restart the Viva and shove the pedal down, the engine coughing for mercy. 

  
Taking a breath, I focus on Tim, staring dead in his eyes before flashing the lights on. I close my eyes, waiting for my old friend to come hurtling over the windscreen. 

  
Suddenly, the car jerks to the left and the wheel is almost torn from my grip. 

  
‘BRACE!’ 

  
John’s scream makes my eyes flick open, just as the Viva is barrelling towards the garage. There’s a flash of white as the airbag blows up in my face, the Viva careering through the glass doors. Despite the unexpected chaos, I manage to hit the brakes, the sound of rubber screeching against laminate drowning out the glass smashing against concrete. The Viva slows and I’m shocked, frozen in the drivers seat, my hands not leaving the wheel. 

  
_Is the car ok? Am I ok? Shit, is John ok?_

  
_What are Tim and the other guy going to do now? Did i hit them?_

  
_How the fuck did i crash?_

  
‘Lunatics.’ 

  
_Hang on_. That’s Tim. 

  
‘Did you see that? Just drive into the....’ There’s a wheeze.

  
‘Look at the state of it! Did our job for us. The airbag didn’t go off.’

  
I gasp. John has no protection from the crash.

  
‘Was that a gasp?’ 

  
I freeze. _Fuck_. 

  
‘That’s Roger. Squeaky bitch.’ 

  
The sound of glass breaking underfoot travels around the front of the Viva. 

  
‘Move that thing from the-’ 

  
There’s a loud, groaning creak and I shriek as what sounds like the entire building falls around the car, shouts coming from the men outside. I grip the wheel tighter, the skin straining around my knuckles as I beg for the roof not to cave in. I’m keep screaming, cursing and pleading as the creaking and thumping continues, waiting for the car to get smaller and for me to be turned into a pikelet. 

  
Gradually, the outside becomes silent, and my screams turn into whimpers and I carefully bat the airbag out of my face. To my surprise, I’m pretty much unscathed. However, the garage hasn’t escaped it’s ordeal by Viva untarnished, half the roof has come down, the front wall collapsed and several beams litter the ground. I’m fairly sure the Viva has become part of the foundations now. 

  
I look out my window, and peer down, regretting it. Out of the rubble sticks the bitten legs of the man and a beam lies across his neck, his head twisted at an impossible angle, Tim is lying next to him, face down and surrounded by lengthening trails of blood. 

  
‘Sorry Tim.’ I mumble, shrinking back in my seat before looking to my left. _Really_ wishing I hadn’t.

  
‘John?’ 

  
Buried underneath the glass on the dashboard, hair dusted with chunks of plaster hiding face,, lays John. He’s still, alarmingly still. Nervous, I reach out and brush his hair out the way, met by half closed grey eyes staring into space. 

  
‘ _John_?’’ I whisper, panic and dread rising in my gut. ‘ _John_?’

  
‘Think he’s gone.’ 

  
I whip around, meeting the – oh too _full of life!_ – eyes of Tim.

  
‘Are you made from steel?’ I screech. He opens the car door and I jerk back, trying to be a wall between him and John. I sneak another look at his limp form, no movement. 

  
‘Steel? So is a Viva. The front is pretty nasty now.’ Tim smiles, leaning into the car. I realise he’s gripping the axe.

  
‘Tim...’ I shake my head, trying to meet his eyes. ‘Please.’

  
‘Let me get to that little bastard and you’ll be fine.’ His pupils are wide, his smile becoming increasingly more evil.

  
‘Tim. This isn’t you.’ I tremble, glancing back to John. Hold on.

  
_Did he just wink_?

  
‘Look at me , Roger.’ I slowly meet Tim’s manic eyes again, he’s holding the axe close. ‘No biting.’ 

  
He raises the axe, staring at my head. 

  
A hand grabs my shoulder, pulling me back and brunette hair thwacks me in the face. John pushes the taser against Tim’s neck and riggers it. Tim’s eyes roll back and he tenses before falling limp. The bassist keeps the taser attached to Tim, breathing heavy through clenched teeth. He shivers, jerkily pulling the weapon away, lightly gasping. He drops the taser, leaning back, against me.

  
‘Killed him.’ John whispers, shaking. 

  
‘It’s okay,’ I stroke his dust covered hair, lightly, ‘it’s legal.’ 

  
Outside, there’s yet another groan from the building.

  
‘I think we need to get out, John.’ 

  
He nods, staring at Tim, who’s laid across the drivers seat, axe by his side and legs dangling out the door.

  
‘Get off me then.’ 

  
He pushes himself away from me, clambering over to the passenger door. 

  
‘it’s free.’ John shoves the Viva’s door open, hopping out, dragging the back pack with him. I follow as he walks toward a door across the – now ruined – room. Underneath the last of the ceiling.

  
‘Is this safe?’ I tiptoe through the mess, flinching at every creak. John ignores me and removes a new taser from the back pack, holding it up, pointing it at the door.

  
‘Roger, open the door, back to the wall.’ He orders, seeming to have shaken off the whole killing Tim thing.

  
I dash over, and fling open the door, John charging forward with the taser. 

  
‘GET DOWN! THE THREE OF YOU!’ 

  
I look around the doorframe to see John firing the taser at a youth with a machete before aiming at two more next to a DB6. 

  
‘Now let me and my friend take that DB...’ He turns to me, keeping the taser pointed at the youths. One begins sneaking forward, ‘Instead of the Mark-’ The bassist spins and shoots down the youth, the other cowering back. John motions for him to leave with the taser. The boy nods and rushes off, dashing past me and into the distance. 

  
‘What were you saying?’ I step into the showroom, pausing to drink in the sight of the metal _pornography_ surrounding me. ‘That’s a DB4.’ I gasp, pointing at the maroon car in front of me. 

  
‘Yeah, this instead of the Mark III.’ My friend wanders to the beauty, peering through the window and grinning. ‘Perfect.’ 

  
He opens the passenger door and motions for me to get in the other side. I shake my head and approach him.

  
‘I drove on the way here.’ I smile. ‘And you did keep grabbing the wheel.’

  
‘You can’t fire a taser.’ John slips into the car, slamming the door and searching in the back pack again. When I get in the car he’s got a drill against the keyhole.

‘Sorry, but we need too.’ 

  
He murders the keyhole with the drill and screwdriver before a mighty growl comes from the bonnet. We both gasp in almost pleasure at that. God that’s a good noise.

  
‘Stay in here.’ John exits the Aston before rushing out and into the destroyed room. A few minutes pass before he returns, tossing an empty jerry can on the floor. He sits next to me and looks at me with mischievous eyes. ‘Ready?’

  
I say nothing, just put my foot down and roar out the showroom, into the rubble room, weaving through a clear path John had built and out the building. 

  
‘3... 2... 1’ 

  
I shriek as the garage erupts into flames behind us, pressing the accelerator even harder. John cackles next to me, glancing over his shoulder, creases next to his eyes.

  
‘Petrol and a leaky Viva with a busted heater.’ He snickers. I turn onto Long Drive, driving as fast as I can, but still in control of the car. A _fucking DB4_. 

‘John... I really do love you sometimes.’ I gaze at him.

  
‘Roger... I really do hate you at all times.’ He glares at me.

  
Laughing at the sheer madness of everything, I swing the Aston onto West way and turn left.

  
‘Where now?’ 

  
‘Shall we visit her majesty?’ John does his best impression of Freddie. 

  
‘ _She’s_ not Her Majesty – _we’re_ Her Majesty.’ I flourish.

  
The two of us dissolve into giggles as I hit 90 in the DB4, the bassist rolling his window down. I do the same and the chilly Central London wind blinds me with my own hair. I flick it away and look over at my friend, his brunette locks flowing out behind him, eyes closed and a blissful smile lighting up his face. He’s got a tape on his lap and I take it, inserting it in the player. It’s the demo of one of Freddie’s creations, it’s about fairies or something.

‘Go on Roger.’ John whispers.

Screaming, I push the accelerator further, hitting 105 and speed back toward Kensington.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I dread to think what I’m going to write next.


	5. 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> New obstacles and new ideas.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS:  
> The usual and sex references and car related injuries.

**Roger**

  
‘Hold on.’ I slow the Aston to around 80 as we continue down West Way. ‘Buckingham Palace and I think most of Westminster is closed off.’  
John rolls his eyes.

  
‘They pass a law that says there are no laws for 12 hours and don’t even participate.’ He giggles. ‘Missing out.’

  
‘Or are they?’ I drag out the last word, raising my eyebrows. The bassist shakes his head at me as we approach a round-a-bout. ‘Back the way we came?’

  
‘Go around or through Hyde park, then go into Mayfair... got a few banks.’

  
I stare at him.

  
_‘No_ John.’

  
‘Yes Roger... I mean we'll only nab something around ten grand.’

  
‘Only?’ I shriek. ‘Aren’t Bri and Freddie going to wonder why we’ve suddenly got thousands of pounds in cash lying around.’

  
‘No because we’ll spend it immediately tomorrow night.’ John says, flippantly. ‘Tell those two we’re sick of them and are going away for a few nights and... stay in somewhere bloody fancy.’

  
‘So like the....’ I realise what he’s plotting.

  
‘Savoy. Ritz maybe.’

  
‘Somewhere that’ll really annoy Freddie.’ I smile. 

  
‘Because he’s not coming.’ We say that at the same time, evil laughter filling the car. 

  
‘He’ll never find out though.’ I frown.

  
‘But if he does.’ He cackles.

  
I look back at the road, picturing the horror on the singer's face when he discovers what John and I did tonight, him ready to kill me for putting John in danger. Then I see the betrayal, the disappointment when he hears we didn’t invite him to a night at the Ritz. He’ll be too upset about that to be angry at me. 

  
_Hold on._

  
‘John, you realise if he does, I’m going to lose my testes.’ I turn onto the dual carriageway we were meant to be on earlier. 

  
‘Judging by your voice I’d say it’s too late for that.’ He deadpans, not looking at me.

  
‘He’ll think it was my idea to bring you out tonight. And the car will _all_ be my fault.’

  
‘Which car?’ John stares out the open window.

  
‘Both. He’ll go apeshit when he finds out i crashed with-’

  
John suddenly leans out the window and fires the taser at a guy at the side of the road. He carefully slides back into his seat. 

  
‘Roger, the Viva _was_ your fault. You picked it out.’

  
We carry on down the carriageway at a steady 90, John keeping a lookout for other dangers. Eventually, an expanse of green and auburn comes into view – Hyde Park. Hopefully, without the axe wielding anoraks.

  
I turn the Aston onto Bayswater Road and gradually pick up the pace, the growls from the bonnet getting increasingly angrier. I find myself stroking the wheel with my thumb, the noises making me shiver.

  
‘Roger, stop moaning.’

  
Leaping out my skin, I meet a pair of accusing grey eyes. He’s got a smile tugging at his lips.

  
‘I wasn’t.’ I retort, glancing down to check I wasn’t that captivated by the DB4

  
‘you sounded like an out of breath chipmunk.’

  
I carry on speeding don the road, past Lancaster Gate where aa bin is on fire, and toward Marble Arch. As the theatre comes into view, it’s gates wide open. John and I share a look. We both know exactly what I’m planning.

  
Swinging the Aston left, we barrel under the theatre, the howls from the bonnet echoing off the building and across to the small road running through the park. I turn the corners and back onto Bayswater, heading back to the Arch.

  
‘Shall we?’ I smile. 

  
We drive under the theatre a ridiculous amount of times, in a circuit, seeing how fast we can go without getting killed. 

  
‘Okay, Roger, okay.’ The bassist screams, his face a picture of unbridled joy at the stupidity of all this. 

  
‘’One more?’ 

  
He nods, eagerly, both of us turning into 12-year olds who’ve had too much Sunny D.

  
The Aston hurtles under Marble Arch one last time, before I roar onto Park Lane.

  
’This is better transport than an iron.’ John adjusts the mirror, checking his hair for the billionth time tonight. ‘3 houses. 1100 please.’

_That reminds me._

  
‘Which bank?’ I inquire, entering Mayfair at 95 miles per hour.

  
‘First one we see.’ The brunette replies, firing the taser out the window again.

  
I shrug and carry on, the sounds from the DB4 making me feel like I’m floating. 

  
‘John, stop laughing.’ 

  
‘Not my fault you thirsty chipmunk.’ He smacks my arm. ‘There’s one.’

  
He points ahead and there is indeed a bank. Not sure which one. 

  
‘What should I do with the car?’ I frown as we park outside, John electrocuting someone as he gets out.

  
‘It’ll be fine’ He motions for me to follow him and I reluctantly leave the Aston, stroking its headlamp, apologetically. 

  
Inside, the back is adorned with shiny things and symbols of wealth. At least we’re provided with the comfort we’re not stealing from the poor. However, there’s still one small thing niggling me.

  
‘John,’ I sigh. ‘How do we rob a....’

  
The bassist flicks the lift button and holds up the taser. With a ting the doors slide open, revealing a duo of girls in weird masks, gripping machetes. Without hesitating, whipping out another taser and firing both simultaneously.

As the girls jitter on the ground, the bassist picks up the massive backpacks before casually walking over to me, platforms clacking against the floor. He unzips the bag.

  
‘How did you-’

  
‘The lift was coming down, can only mean one thing.’ The brunette shrugs. ‘8 thousand.’ He nods, showing me the rolls of £20 notes inside. ‘Think that’s enough.’  
I shake my head at him and turn on my heel, freezing. 

  
‘Roger... don’t move.’ 

  
John takes my wrist, stepping in front of me, staring the snorkel parkas in their.... well not their eyes but their hoods. There’s five of them, their hands behind their backs, stood in a line. They’re blocking the door.

_Who are they? What’s with the parkas?_

  
‘Show your hands.’ John snarls, priming his taser again. ‘ _Now_! Then no one needs to get hurt.’

  
‘You two need to get hurt.’ 

  
I recoil at the deep voice that comes from one of the snorkel parkas. 

  
‘Who are you?’ John yells. ‘Why are you following us.’

  
‘We recognise him.’ 

  
The ‘leader’ of the group points at me, his other hand coming out from behind him, holding an axe.   
Then it dawns on me.

  
‘Anoraks.’ I shiver. ‘You are the anoraks!’ 

  
They nod, each producing an axe. 

  
‘Roger.... get in the lift.’ 

  
John grabs my arms and we dash to the lift, smacking he close door button madly. They come towards us, shouting like Tom Jones, the doors closing just before they get us. The two of us back up into the corners of the lift, sharing panicked looks. 

  
_Wait_. John hasn’t panicked once tonight. Why now?

  
‘Please say you have a plan.’ I tremor. The bassist doesn’t answer. ‘You handled the Viva crashing into a garage with nary a bead of sweat, what is the problem now?’

  
‘I planned the Viva crashing. I braced and knew how to survive it.’ He sighs. ‘I _didn’t_ plan robbing a bank or running into axe wielding parkas. There’s five of them, all armed, and two of us, one of us armed. Our survival is based on me having a plan... and I don’t right now.’

  
‘I do.’ I smile, John giving me a doubtful stare. ‘We get to the ground floor, take out obstacles and run to the car... then drive like hell.’ 

  
‘Take out obstacles?’ My friend shakes his head at me.

  
‘How do you use a taser?’ Wow _. I_ didn’t even think I’d say that. 

  
‘Outside the realms of your understanding.’ The doors ping open, my friend immediately closing them again, pressing the ground floor button. ‘Also, these are handmade and aren’t exactly sophisticated. Can be a little temperamental.’

  
‘How temperme-’

  
‘Y’know how last week, Brian and I were late to rehearsal?’ Oh, where’s this going? ‘He barged into my room, whilst I was assembling one, shot him in the shin.... didn’t remember, woke up about half an hour later.’

  
I hold back a laugh at that image. The brunette opens his back pack, taking out yet another taser.

  
‘How many do you have?’ I exclaim, as he hands me one.

  
‘Don’t touch the red bit.’ He holds up his taser at the lift door. ‘Do this, hands away from the trigger.’ I nod and copy him, keeping a close eye on my hands. What if it suddenly goes off? Will I be killed? Shit, what if I kill John?

  
He talks me through the firing of the taser. Miraculously, neither of us are zapped. As the lift approaches the ground floor I turn to my friend.

'Now what?’

  
‘When the doors open, fire.’

  
‘Why?’ 

  
The doors open with a ding, revealing two figures, heads shrouded in fluff.

  
‘NOW!’ 

  
The shock of the sudden scream from the bassist causes me to pull the trigger anyway. There’s a thud – I’ve shot down a snorkel parka. Of course, John decides to wrestle the axe from the other, thwacking the figure around the head with the handle. 

  
‘Run, straight to the car.’ I shout, putting my plan into action.

  
The Aston is still parked at the side of the road; incredibly, it’s still intact. We dash out of the bank, John flinging the money in the back of the car as I turn the screwdriver in the keyhole, a roar echoing down the street. 

  
I glance to my left; 3 snorkel parkas emerge from the bank. I don’t hesitate. I slam the accelerator to the floor, taking the brunette by surprise and speed off, clinging onto the wheel as if my life depends on it.

  
John kneels in the passenger seat, looking over the headrest like he did earlier.... when we were being chased. I swing around the first corner we reach, weaving directly through another in a hope to shake them off.

  
‘What are they in?’ I scream as we hit 90. I look over at John, not focusing on the road. ‘What car?’

  
‘Ones in a Dacia 1300 and the-’ 

  
The DB4 jolts violently as I hit a speed bump, the force of the hit flinging the bassist backwards. I slam the brakes just as he crashes through the windscreen, sliding across the long bonnet and landing on the concrete with a smack. 

  
I freeze. 

  
_This wasn’t in the plan_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How long will this be?


	6. 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Don't get the wrong idea ;)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: Violence toward a car, character death and swearing

**Brian**

I fling down a plus 4 on top of Freddie’s.  
‘But... what did I do to you?’  
I gesture at my fan of 15 cards.  
‘7 plus two’s and I was on uno?’  
The singer throws his cards on the bed, folding his arms.   
‘Wonder how Deacy and Rog are doing?’ He muses. ‘Not heard a peep.’  
‘Deacy’s got roger. He’s fine.’

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

**Roger**

  
It feels like the entire city has fallen silent as I sit, frozen in the Aston, staring at the hole in the windscreen, strands of chestnut hair caught on the glass, fluttering gently in the midnight breeze. The bonnet has a few specs of blood on it and silver lines where it’s been scratched. 

I don’t know how long I stay sat there; I don’t even know if I’m breathing anymore. 

Eventually, i click the door open, the sound of my Adidas on the tarmac echoing down the road. I don’t know where we are – I lost track a few streets back. The walk around the car feels too long however I kind of don’t want to go past the bonnet. That’s the only thing hiding John from me. 

The bassist is just next to the Aston lain out on his back, arms crossed over his stomach, his face not showing a glimmer of any emotion. Anyone would think he’s just asleep, if it wasn’t for a trio of gashes on the side of his face and the tears across his clothing. Slowly, I approach him, kneeling beside him. His satin tank top is ripped slightly, revealing a few grazes across his bare chest – which isn’t moving.

If I wasn’t panicked before, I’m absolutely freaking out now. I don’t remember what I’m supposed to do right now. Yes, I am the one out of the four of us that went to medical school, but that’s gone from my mind now, just the thought of how I’m going to tell Fred and Bri that I’ve killed John running around my brain. 

I can already hear Freddie’s screams, feel his fists smacking me everywhere as he blames me, blames the night – blames _himself_ for not getting _his_ Deaky to stay with him and Brian. Oh, Bri – Deacy is the only one who he has intelligent conversations with. I know Bri admires Deacy and all his techy ideas – and now I’ve catapulted him through a windscreen. The windscreen of the car i wanted to steal. This was _my_ idea, _I’m_ the one who was excited about tonight. _I’m_ the one that didn’t listen to Bri and Fred. _I’m_ the one that’s killed John.

Gently, I run a hand through his hair.

Oh god, what will I tell his family? How am I meant to explain this? What are they going to think when I tell them their 20-year-old boy helped me steal two cars and 8 grand before being chased by 5 axe murderers on Purge night? 

_Wait_. 

It’s legal to kill tonight. I’ve committed no crime. John will be just another number in the Purge ‘success’ rate. 

‘Sorry, John.’ I whisper. ‘I shouldn’t have dragged you out tonight.’ 

The sound of tyres screeching ring out across the streets, getting increasingly louder. _The snorkel parkas._

Without a moment of thought, I grab John, lifting him bridal-style and rushing back to the Aston. I lay him on the back seats before hopping back in the driver’s seat and speeding off, dodging the broken glass on the ground. 

Part of me feels it’ll be fairer if I just let the parkas come and behead me however, I don’t know what they’ll do with my friend. I glance over at him, the peaceful expression on his face – it’s chilling.

Turning back to the road, I drive deeper into London, weaving in and out side streets, not recognising a single park or building.

‘Where are we?’ I ask, forgetting I won’t get an answer.

I pass several more attacks and fires, keeping an eye out for parkas and anoraks – the loss of the windscreen and the fact I’m alone now scaring me. I’m vulnerable now... and in a bloody eye-catching DB4. I’m not exactly blending in.

  
I decide to keep driving, the presence of John’s body on the backseat getting more and more unsettling. It’s so quiet and everything feels like it’s got darker and colder.

  
Freddie’s wails come back to mind, accompanied by Bri’s disappointed stares, directed at me.

_‘You shouldn’t have brought him with you.’_

_‘Deaky is only 20.... was....’_

_‘Why did Deacy have to protect you?’_

_‘It should have been you Roger!’_

My knuckles turn snow-white, and I screw my eyes shut, shaking my head. A few tears run down my cheeks, as I try to focus on the road. 

I don’t know if the snorkel parkas are still following me – I sort of don’t care anymore. 

I’ve stopped running from them. All this mindless driving is me trying to forget about the lifeless bassist behind me. 

I’ve only known John for a few months, but in that time, we’ve become bloody close. He’s just hones – brutally honest but still honest. I’d trust him with my life – i have done. Despite being almost opposites, we have loads in common – a similar obsession with cars, stupid sense of humour, the same hobby in annoying Bri – loads. Also, I could watch John for days. Those expressive grey eyes either glaring at someone or fixed and focused on his bass. His effortless talent. That filthy smirk. 

And I’ve taken that away now. All for an Aston. The growl isn’t satisfying anymore, it’s not hot or dirty now - it’s mournful, like it’s screeching with guilt. 

_‘And you should_.’ I snarl, turning off the ignition, getting out and slamming my door. I storm around the car, to the passenger door and take out the crowbar from John’s back pack. ‘You’ll get what you fucking deserve.’

I raise the crowbar and slam it down on the bonnet, the slap of metal against metal no phasing me. I keep smacking the DB4, going at the rest of the windscreen. As I send more glass flying, I shut my eyes, grunting out sobs with each hit. The car is ruined – probably still drivable but ruined. No windscreen, dents all over the bonnet, most of the paintwork either on me or on the ground. 

I whack the bonnet one more time before the crowbar slips from my fingers, clattering against the car. My knees buckle and I fall to them, my hands gripping onto the grass. I didn’t realise I’d gone off-road. I start crying softly, hugging my waist, drained. There are distant screams and crashes, laughter and feral hollers filling the air. I must be in the depths of Central London, surrounded by people yet still so alone.

Well, at least I think I’m alone.

‘Roger?’

I freeze, slowly turning my head to the side. My eyes meet a pair of white and black platforms and black satin. My gaze pans up and John’s concerned eyes meet mine. 

‘Why... what happened to the As-’

‘YOU’RE ALIVE!’

I scream, throwing myself at the bassist, kissing him directly on the lips before pulling him into a tight hug. He tenses and backs away.

‘Did you just kiss me?’ He glares at me,

‘No...’ _Shit I did. What the hell did I... maybe I got too excited. _

I stare at him, stood there like nothing happened. Like he wasn’t flung through a window less than an hour ago.

‘How are you okay?’ I approach him again, the brunette recoiling.

  
‘Didn’t hit the concrete that hard.’ He shrugs, before studying my face. ‘Sorry, did I scare you?’

‘Thought you were dead.’ I mumble. ‘Couldn’t see you breathing.’

‘Maybe shock.’ He reasons, looking over at the Aston. ‘And mind explaining why the car is missing most of its front and why we're in Regents Park?’

I spin around, glancing around the place in surprise. We are indeed in Regents Park...

Where Bri and I hid with Freddie last year...

_From the anoraks_.

The unmistakeable sound of an 8-valve engine fills the park. John and I share a panicked look.

‘Car. NOW!’ He screams, dashing to the passenger side, brushing the glass off the seat. This time he plugs in the seatbelt.

I start the Aston, reversing at high speed onto the path out the park, tyres squealing as we power back onto the streets of London without looking back. 

I know they’re on our tail, their lights flashing but I keep calm and focus. John just stares at the rear-view mirror, every now and then shouting at me to turn left. I don’t stop driving, not until we pass fewer and fewer buildings and more countryside. The road gets bumpier too. 

It’s also very quiet. 

‘Think we’ve lost them.’ I comment. 

‘roger, we lost them an hour ago.’ John sighs. ‘anyway, that’s hardly the point.’

‘Why not?’ 

‘The point is... where the _fuck_ are we?’ 

I pause and look around at the trees and fields around us, the Aston jolting as it goes over a pothole.

‘No idea.’ I look at my watch. ‘It’s 4::00. We really need to get back to the flat.’

‘We’ve not seen a single smidgen of the existence of the human race for hours!’ The bassist folds his arms. ‘Don’t think we’ll get back to London, let alone Kensington in time.’

‘Wait!’

In the distance looms a group of houses. A short while later, we enter the village, not catching the name of it. 

‘I’ve got an idea.’ John smirks, pointing ahead. I follow his finger to a pub. 

Not another word needs to pass his lips – I know _precisely_ what he’s thinking. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ***THE KISS WAS PLATONIC AND OUT OF RELIEF***  
> There will only be one more chapter of this nonsense.


	7. 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The morning after

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS: The usual... oh and mentions of Roger being naked

**Roger**

  
‘Sir. Excuse me sir.’ 

  
Someone nudges my arm.

  
‘Oi, blondie.’

  
My eyes flutter open and I’m met by the steely eyes of a police officer, another smiling next to him. I look around. I’m lying in a model village, hugging a sleeping John from behind. He’s still got the back pack from last night. He lets out a small groan before slowly opening his eyes, staring at me in confusion.

  
‘Roger?’ His eye’s pan to the officers. ‘Roger, what did you do?’

  
‘Hello, I’m Constable Butterman, this is Sergeant Angel... we found you both asleep here.’

  
‘We didn’t find them, Staker reported a young man being suffocated by a naked blonde.’

  
I glance down... thought it was cold.

  
‘ROGER WHAT THE FUCK?’ John leaps to his feet... bare feet. ‘Where are my shoes?’

  
‘Oh here.’ Butterman hands us a pile of clothes – my clothes and John’s platforms.

  
‘Thanks.’ I take my clothes from him, a shower of playing cards falling to the floor. 

  
_Ohhhh_.

  
‘We were playing strip poker.’ I recall. ‘And you have A levels in maths.’

  
‘O level further maths.’ The bassist smirks.

  
Angel shakes his head at us.

  
‘Now you’re decent, mind telling us your address.’ He takes out his note pad.

  
‘Kensington.’ I mumble.

  
‘What London?’ Butterman gasps. ‘You’re in Sandford...only a few miles from Bristol.’

  
‘Bristol?’ I repeat.

  
‘You’re 139 miles from home.’ 

  
How the _fuck_ did we end up here?’ 

  
‘It’s 7:30 AM. The Purge ended 30 minutes ago.’ Angel informs. ‘We can take you back home.’

‘Thank you.’ John smiles, his hand hovering over his mouth. He opens the backpack slightly and takes out a few notes, ‘£140. Pound per mile almost.’

‘No need.’ Butterman waves his hand at John, the bassist looking away covering his mouth again. ‘Get in the car... it’s over there.’

John just nods, smiling slightly. Angel smiles at him, giving me a disapproving look.

The officers wander to the policer car and I glare at John.

‘Look at you... all butter wouldn’t melt.’

  
\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

We arrive in Kensington at around 11.

‘Drop... um, drop us off on... Kensington High Street.’ John quivers.

‘Okay.’ Butterman parks next to the charred pub from last night. ‘Freddie for us, Sandford has a crime rate of zero.’ 

My friend and I smile at him before getting out the car, Angel and Butterman waving as they leave.

‘DEAKYI!’

_Oh god_.

  
I turn to see Freddie barrelling towards us, Bri in tow. He grabs the bassist and holds him tight, cradling him. 

  
‘Fucking.... never do that again, ROGER!’ The singer snaps, glaring at me. ‘You took him out? Why?’

  
‘ _Whoa_!’ I shriek. ‘Who said I took him out?’

  
‘We came out our room at 7:00, and you were both gone. No defence on your door, no nothing.’ Bri folds his arms, huffing. ‘ _Roger_ , what did you do?’

  
‘We...’ John clears his throat, sobbing all of a sudden. ‘We heard a shout downstairs... it was Tim.’ He hivers in Freddie’s arms. ‘Roger wanted to see if Tim was okay, so went out, I followed. We looked outside and these four men were chasing him.’

_Oh, you little..._.

John lets out a screech, holding onto Freddie tighter.

‘It’s okay, let’s get you home.’ The singer slowly let’s go of the brunette.

‘I think he took a beige Vauxhall.’ He adds. 

‘Roger?’ Bri stares at me, expectantly.

‘Yeah. Think it was a Viva.’ 

  
\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Back at the flat, Fred forces John to lay on the sofa, smothering him in blankets whilst I perch on the chair next to the radio. Freddie won’t leave the bassist alone and keeps shooting me dirty looks. He’s fuming at me. Bri just sits across from me, listening closely to the radio.

‘Last night was the UK’s most successful Purge yet. Here, in Kensington, 700 people were found dead and 10 facilities burnt to a crisp, including the Aston Martin garage.’

I look over at John, a small smile on his lips.

‘Anyway, Roger and I are going out tonight.’ John states out of nowhere. ‘Up Battersea way. I just want to get away from Kensington for a few nights.’  
Freddie just nods, whilst Bri sends me a look of confusion.

‘What are you two.... planning?’

‘And why him? Again?’ Fred cries. ‘Roger, what did you do?’

‘ _Why_ do people keep saying that?’ I scream. 

John shakes his head at us before getting up, flinging the blanket at Bri. 

‘Really Deacy?’

‘Roger, we’re leaving at 7.’  
  
\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

John and I step off the tube at Green Park Station, him in a white suit and black shirt. I straighten my rainbow pinstripe jacket and glance up at my friend, briefly forgetting he’s in those fucking beige platforms.

‘You wear those so you can glare at Bri, don’t you?’ I tease.

‘Please don’t mention that twangy poodle for the next two nights.’ He groans as we cross Piccadilly and up towards the Ritz.

‘So, it’s tea then sleep for 48 hours?’

‘No. Tea, drinks, sleep, drinks then sleep again.’

I let out a small laugh as John pauses at the foot of the stairs into the hotel.

‘Check in and go to the restaurant at 9?’ I suggest we go up the steps. ‘Think they’ll have enough room.’ 

John just nods as the door is opened for us by a snooty man. 

‘Sir, madam.’ He looks at me when he says ‘madam.’ The bassist holds back a smirk as I ignore them and stand patiently at the reception desk.

Soon a woman arrives the other side of the desk, looking down her nose at John and I. 

‘Two rooms.’

‘Sorry, we have no single rooms free.’ She has a European accent. ‘There is a twin room.’

John runs through everything else we want and I’m handed a room key. 

‘Room 198.’ I state and wave bye to the woman before we make our way to our room.... which is not a twin room.

‘I think the words ‘double’ and ‘twin’ got mixed.’ I quip as the two of us stare at the pristine white double bed in the centre of the room.

‘If you spoon me naked again, Roger, I will kill you.’

‘We could exchange.’ I suggest.

‘No, I sleep like a log and so do you.... just keep as much room in-between as possible.’ 

I shrug and wander to the wardrobe before unpacking whilst John raids the mini bar,

‘Oh, this gets _better_.’ He smiles. ‘Freddie will be _really_ jealous.’

  
He takes out a bottle of Moet et Chandon from the bar, grinning. 

  
‘There’s glasses over there.’ I point at the table in the corner.

  
He pours us both a small glass, checking they’re not level and handing me the one with the least. I say nothing and just take a sip, recoiling at the taste,

  
‘Hate champagne.’ I hiss, before taking another sip.

  
‘Why are you... forget it.’ John raises his glass out at me. ‘To the Vauxhall Viva.’

  
‘To the Vauxhall Viva.’ 

  
We clink glasses and I wander to the window, staring out over the London skyline. I look down to the road, to Piccadilly just as a Vauxhall Viva drives past. 

  
‘John, there’s a Viva.’ I point down at the mint green car as the bassist joins me at the window. 

  
The two of us car spot for a while before my friend taps my arm.

  
‘Tea?’ I glance at the clock – 8:55. ‘Take around 5 minutes to get down there.’

  
‘Oh, you are precise.’ I jest and we head to the restaurant – most of London’s elite already seated. John slips behind me, using me as a shield. I send a reassuring glance over my shoulder. 

  
We’re seated in the corner, across from a group of bankers. John’s eyes keep darting around, not quite looking at anybody. We talk a bit but he keeps his hand close to his mouth, muting himself slightly.

  
Then i overhear the bankers.

  
‘It was _stunning_ , Derek, seriously... 8 grand gone from the Hammersmith Vault and two girls and two men in big coats collapsed near the lift.’

  
John and I snicker at each other. Something comes to mind.

  
‘How did Fred and Bri not get electrocuted?’ I ask. 'Fleshy spaghetti.'

  
‘Keep your voice down!’ The bassist whispers. ‘I set it to switch off at 6:30.’

  
‘So, there was a 30-minute window of them getting killed?’

  
‘No, a 30-minute window for us to get in... and possibly them getting killed.’ He winks at me before going back to his shy state.

  
\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

At 11, we return to the room, John taking out a bottle of whiskey from the minibar, getting each of us a glass. He’s still tenses as I sit next to him on the bed. 

‘Anything you need to talk about?’ I inquire, concerned.

‘Tim was your mate.’ He sighs. ‘Yours, Freddie’s and Brian’s.... I shouldn’t have killed him.’

‘I’m a closer friend to those two now... so are you. It was either we lose someone who barley talks to us or they lose two of their bandmates.’

John nods, vacantly looking over at me.

‘How’re you doing though?’

I sigh.

‘Don’t know... crashed one car, battered another then ended up naked in a village in Somerset.’

‘Naked spooning-’

‘I was not spooning!’ I scream. 

‘You kissed me too, Roger is there something you’re not telling me?’

I roll my eyes at him before plonking my glass on the bedside table and getting under the covers.

‘Please say you don’t sleep naked.’ The brunette groans.

‘Are boxers ok?’ I plead. ‘I get really warm – even in winter.’

The bassist snorts before getting in too, turning away from me and shuffling as far away as possible. I flick of the lamps and lay on my back, just seeing the outline of my friend in the dark.

‘Night John.’

‘Fuck off Roger.’

I smile lightly before drifting into a long-needed sleep.

_Last night was a little crazy._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for taking time to read this and any feedback is appreciated.  
> Also, Sandford is 139 miles from Kensington High Street. It wasn't a 39 reference however I was very excited.


	8. Not a chapter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Should I do a sequel?

Right I've just had a really random idea for a sequel to this. It'll be the next Purge and yet another mad idea. I kind of have a Dealor thing in mind however I don't know if I should throw any yachting in there? I don't ship anything but I can see the plot. 

I've also got another long, more serious plot in mind for another book.

i know only two people will see this but it's worth asking I guess.


End file.
